Armitage Alehouse Review Lincoln Park Chicago
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The painting was first put up as a joke, but in less than 24 hours it went viral on the internet. Once the painting took over the internet, Elliot was interviewed by major TV networks and over a hundred radio stations. That’s where the idea of ‘political porn paintings’ came to Elliot, and many now adorn the wall above the bar. But it’s the political paintings that draw the most attention. Bruce leans left on the political spectrum and speaks with a smile about his time spent at UC Berkeley during the Vietnam War. He described himself back then as a “hardcore draft dodger.” Scattered around the bar and in his basement studio are more recent paintings—nude political figures playing out their scandals on canvas.
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The Old Town Ale House is a saloon in the Old Town neighborhood of Chicago, United States, that has been in operation since 1958.[1][2][3] It is currently located at 219 W. “The Old Town Ale House is as close to the Old Town of the 60’s and 70’s that you are going to find, making it a neighborhood landmark, classic Chicago joint and generally a pub that you’ll not want to miss”.
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But Armitage Alehouse is one of those exceptions that’s too stunning to deny. It’s lovelier than Au Cheval, cozier than Bavette’s, and more polished than Maude’s Liquor Bar (which sadly closed in 2020). If you’re looking for Chicago’s most transporting space, the only competition might be the Cherry Circle Room.
Old Town Ale House, Chicago
While the origin story of chicken tikka masala is hotly debated, the dish didn’t gain national consciousness in the U.K. When you step into The Old Town Ale House, the first thing you notice are the paintings that fill about every inch of every wall, made by the part-time owner and blogger Bruce Elliot. In fact, The Old Town Ale House has seen a shift in ownership over the years, before finally finding its place in Elliot’s hands. Brendan Sodikoff doesn’t create restaurants; he fashions escapes from reality. In true pub-style, The Old Town Ale House puts down daily specials on a chalkboard, which include the day’s drinks and food.
Balchowsky lost his arm fighting with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade in the Spanish Civil War and died after getting hit by a subway car in Chicago in 1989. Bruce has forgotten the story behind some paintings. In his basement, he pulled a portrait of a black woman from a shelf and brought it upstairs to see if anyone in the bar remembers her name. “She was the first female in combat.” Bruce shrugged and said he didn’t remember much about her except that she used to play pinball and smoked a lot.
Step into any of their restaurants and you’ll notice the same dim lighting, antique decor, attentive service, and occasionally even the same dishes. Of course, the only reason you can order Indian food with a gin and tonic at a pub is because the British once occupied India. Not that Armitage Alehouse needs to address this, but it might have shown that it at least considered the charged history. Though the bone may be little more than an excuse to give people less filling, the dramatic presentation is undeniably impressive, and the bone is filled with loads of unctuous marrow, which you can spread over the pie crust. There’s no faulting how the crackly crust mixes with the ultra-savory fillings, like the oxtail and red wine pie ($25) or the more balanced steak and ale pie ($25). A phone interview was denied, as was our usual request to send a Tribune photographer, which explains the subpar iPhone photos here.
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We are an intimate restaurant and accept reservations for parties of 1-6 guests. We kindly ask that you do not make multiple reservations for more than one group. What’s more, the Indian-influenced dishes on the menu are bizarrely disappointing. The skin on the tandoori-style roasted chicken ($25) arrives blackened to the point of tasting of soot.
He started coming to the bar five years ago when he was taking classes at Second City; both Bruce and Tim say the only way to get a job at the bar is to become a regular. Tobin Mitchell took over the bar in 2005 when both Art and Bea Klug died unexpectedly during the same year. Tobin cleaned the place up and also decided to extend the famous Ale House wall mural which was painted in 1971 by Maureen Munson.
Bruce Elliott and his paintings
A night bartender is the juke box czar and has very eclectic taste. The original Ale House only played classical music and Tim always keeps a classical CD or two on the box. One of the biggest plusses of the juke box is that punks hate the music and don’t come in often. The worst offender is chicken tikka masala ($20), which tastes like limp poached chicken tenders in a barely spiced tomato sauce. So much about this version feels so wrong, it’s hard to even know where to begin, but to be particularly petty, it’s anachronistic to the 1926 vibe.
Over the years, the pub has become a staple spot for many, including those coming straight from the Second City theatre across the street. Chicago is home to many pubs, but one that has left a mark on many is the historic Old Town Ale House. Old Town Ale House has attracted many, from blue-collar men, college kids, and even the more affluent crowd. Everyone wants a pint at the Old Town Ale House, and the pub has something for everyone. The team behind downtown spots like Bavette’s, Ciccio Mio, and Trivoli Tavern is exceptionally good at copy and pasting.
It doesn’t help that the meat rests on a bed of overly chalky dal. If the food were as irresistible as the atmosphere, we’d have a new Chicago hit on our hands. But unlike other Hogsalt operations that arrive fully formed, Armitage Alehouse’s menu feels needlessly full of misfires.
Diaz immediately ran the bar into the ground and sold it in 1970 to a bizarre group of Rush Street eccentrics, one of whom was my friend, Art Klug. No sooner did the new owners take over the Ale House than it caught fire. Enlisting about forty brawny (and not so brawny) drinking pals they carried the old bar out of what was left of the original Ale House and into the middle of North Avenue and then through the door of what used to be Pete’s Butcher Shop.
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